Musee des Beaux Arts
About suffering they were never wrong,
The Old Masters: how well they
Its human position; how it takes
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately
For the miraculous birth, there always must
Children who did not specially want it to happen,
On a pond at the edge of the wood:
They never
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy
Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.
In Brueghel's Icarus for instance: how everything turns
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.
W H Auden
Other author posts
Here War Is Simple
Here war is simple like a monument: A telephone is speaking to a man; Flags on a map assert that troops were sent; A boy brings milk in bowls
If I Could Tell You
Time will say nothing but I told you so, Time only knows the price we have to pay; If I could tell you I would let you know If we should weep when clowns put on their show,
Miranda
My dear one is mine as mirrors are lonely, As the poor and sad are real to the good king, And the high green hill sits always by the sea Up jumped the Black Man behind the elder tree,
I Have No GunBut I Can Spit
Some thirty inches from my The frontier of my Person goes, And all the untilled air Is private pagus or demesne